A crystal glass so finely cut to claim the evening’s hue;
my ancient leather whiskey chair, to sip the tranquil dew.
Senses stir the amber pool as it mellows in my mouth,
mid plumes of Cuban hand bound leaves, I’ll see the evening out.
I’ve done my verse, my pen to rest until tomorrow’s light,
perhaps by then, another will have come out of the night.
But now the evening whispers seep into my cherished land,
to ramble through my wonderings with crystal in my hand.
The early spring still timbers need to argue with the flames;
to keep my chamber warm and dry for winter’s print remains.
The ailing dog lies at my feet, now old and fast asleep,
my loyal friend has stood my ground in sadness and defeat.
The clock still ticks for daily wound, a labour, I adore,
it gives me strength to seek each day, each moment to explore.
Each hour chimes a passing time and another to unfold,
each day to bid, a fond farewell, each night to take its hold.
The silence weaves the cigar smoke in floating ropes of mist,
lassoing temperamental moods that try to steal a kiss.
But age has warmed to wisdom’s calm and evening fails to harm;
my wilder wings have folded, rests the falcon on my arm.
My library stands, timbered strength, her authors bound in age,
and there they rest, the words of giants, the tombstones of the sage.
My reading lamp’s been burning for as long as I have learned,
and how it still enlightens all the pages I have turned.
The stars appear to celebrate the dusking of the day;
the perfumes of the evening with the light to drift away.
I hear my lady calling me, your dinner waits for you,
I must with haste, with glass in hand, waste not a drop – adieu.
-
Author:
Tony Grannell (
Online) - Published: June 16th, 2025 19:10
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 11
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Poetic Licence, Tristan Robert Lange, Cheeky Missy
Online)
Comments4
Great to witness beauty in these moments. The world moves forward, but that doesn’t mean what came before is lost. We are shaped by our experiences, and the calm of understanding them is its own kind of wisdom. Cherish what has been, embrace what comes next, and know that even in stillness, there is meaning. Awesome share 🙏🏻🕊️
What a beautiful response, truly and I am loaded to the brim with gratitude.
Kind regards,
Tony.
No worries, Tony. Glad to get the brim to overflowing. It's not an easy feat these days.
Best regards,
Rik
Tony this poem sets the mood with some marvelous lines (The early spring still timbers need to argue with the flames;) as well as (My library stands, timbered strength, her authors bound in age, and there they rest, the words of giants, the tombstones of the sage.) Some great lines I wish I had thought of.. The mood is mellow and pensive and most enjoyed. Another fave for a brilliant pen.
Delighted you enjoyed this one Soren, always a joy when you drop by. Thank you ever so much for the fine response.
Do take care now,
Tony.
A somber and pensive write but accompanied with a glass of whiskey and a cigar, that makes the words flow easier, some wonderful lines and l loved this write, thank you
All was he down with a glass of whiskey. Your response is very much appreciated. Most kind of you indeed.
All the best,
Tony.
You are very welcome
A wonderful write, Tony. The flow and the rhyming, just lovely. You have a way of weaving words together that makes it seem so easy and natural, yet the craft behind all your work is eternally evident. You are a master poet, my friend and I am honored to know and be reading you. 🌹👏
Hello Tristan,
Your lovely words find me on a high and for that, I do thank you ever so much.
You are keeping in good spirits, I trust,
Tony.
You are most welcome, dear Tony! I am. Hope you are as well!
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